In Which I Point Out a Plot Hole or Two
by FairyHunter
Summary: UPDATED WITH ANOTHER ONESHOT. In this fic, everything is so canon it's AU. I fixed a few of the plot holes of the first book not by eliminating them, but by giving them the reality due to any bit of canon. [Warning: character deaths, TLC spoilers in ch.2]
1. Out of Time

**:In Which I Point Out a Plot Hole or Two:**

Out of Time

I had been wrong. My theory – the one that our lives depended on – had been wrong. I should have known. I had wondered how the fairies had overlooked so simple a thing as that. I should have realized that thousands of years is usually a long enough time in which to correct any flaws in the time stop that a preteen Mud Man might spot. I should have thought more about contingencies and noticed that this situation had none. I strode determinedly to the wine cellar.

_It is possible to escape the time stop, _I had thought. _The fairies are such fools for overlooking this escape route_. I had underestimated them. I had based too much of the plan on my naïve arrogance. _I know everything about the fairies._ I selected, at random, a bottle of champagne from my father's collection of liquors and brought it upstairs to the kitchen.

I had told the fairy commander that I could get out of the time stop. It was all part of the plan. He thought I was crazy; I thought I was a genius. I suppose he had been right. After that meeting, many people and People inside the time stop fell unconscious yet remained in this time. Butler. Captain Short. The troll. It had even come to pass that a fairy outside was hit by a tranquilizer dart, ruling out my last hope that chemically-induced sleep would still work as planned despite the failure of all other means of induced unconscious. I sighed at my own failure as I returned the three cups I had set out earlier to their cupboard and replaced them with three champagne glasses.

We hadn't had a hope at living ever since I talked that commander into bio-bombing Fowl Manor, but I hadn't seen it until too late. I finally found Juliet and Butler, suggested a celebration, and scurried back to the kitchen.

I hadn't made up my mind until the fairy outside collapsed: We _can_ achieve our goals even if the fairies are bound to achieve theirs – it merely calls for a revising of our goals. I watched patiently as the sleeping pills I had dropped into the glasses, now containing champagne, dissolved.

They wouldn't expect it – neither of them would expect it, the fairies nor the Butlers. I had to kill us before the bio bomb hit. If we had to die we would die on my terms and by my means. I serenely called for Juliet and Butler.

When they came, I proposed a toast. They commented about the alcohol and my being underage. The alcohol was necessary, though – in conjunction with the sedatives, the concoction would be fatal to drink. I gave an excuse. In the end, their trust in me got the better of them and they drank their death.

I waited, before downing my own, to make sure they had finished their poisons; such was my desire to beat the fairies in the race to kill my friends and myself. It took perhaps a moment longer to take effect on Butler than on Juliet, despite the fact that he had drunk first. He saw her fall down never to rise, and he, too, felt the creeping sluggishness that would kill him. In that moment, I could tell from his expression that he would never trust again, not in the least because he would never breathe again.

Without remorse and without hesitation, I drained my own glass.

* * *

A/N: Huzzah, that was so fun to write! I got to include both mad!Artemis and silly!Colfer. It is so very AU, yet so very canon, as only Colfer's universe can allow.

In Which I Point Out a Plot Hole or Two: Out of Time was shortlisted for both Best AU and Best Concept/Idea in the 2001-2005 Orion Awards.

Disclaimer: Eoin owns everything. Thank goodness.


	2. Security

**:In Which I Point Out a Plot Hole or Two:**

**Security**

Three years since my principle vanished into thin air, literally. Three years, and I haven't stopped thinking about him, worrying about him. The sun has barely begun to rise, and already the daily sorrow of his absence has set in.

It isn't just that I've failed the name of Butler. It isn't just that I've failed his parents. It's failing him that feels the worst.

The fairies; they are to blame for his loss. Without those silly troubles of theirs that Artemis had entangled himself in, he would still be here, be alive.

I heard a lock slide back, and my training kicked in. It sounded like it had come from the front door, and a monitor across the room confirmed this. I pulled my gun from beneath my pillow, as I ran silently to the front of my cottage.

A boy was crouched over on the floor barely a step from the open door. I saw him wretch and all that was inside him came rushing out, leaving a great mess for me to clean. Was he a local drunk, who had just happened to type the correct code on the keypad? I knew that a keypad with only a four digit code was hardly secure, but my ten-digit lock was currently being repaired. But no, the lad looked too young to have been drinking.

Was he just a homeless boy looking for shelter or food? He was certainly dirty enough; he had gotten ash and grime, along with the pungent vomit, all over my carpet.

I had aimed the laser targeting system of my gun at his chest, and since his head was still bent forward, I assumed he had seen the red dot, so I said the customary threatening line.

He nodded and put his hands behind his head as instructed, though his body shuddered as though about to throw up again. I wondered if I should knock him out or tie his hands when I turned him in to the police. Then he lifted his head, revealing his face.

"Artemis? But it can't be you…"

He tried to respond, but could only wretch violently. He didn't look quite like Artemis. He was too young, he should be eighteen. And there was something else unusual, but I couldn't think of it for a moment.

He breathed hard, trying to keep his illness in control. We locked eyes. That was it—his eyes. In the semi-darkness, it hadn't been easy to see, but one of his eyes was blue, and the other one hazel. My memory flashed, and I remembered Artemis wearing Holly's iris cam for the Spiro Needle heist. This boy was not Artemis but an impostor.

It must be a fairy impostor, because this was magic sickness it was experiencing. It hadn't got my permission to enter. I wondered what the fairies wanted with me. To answer for the disappearance of the elf and the demon? But if so, why had they taken so long?

Nonetheless, this false Artemis would not be going to the police. In fact, only a small, round, bullet-sized piece of the intruder would be going anywhere at all.

I discreetly flicked off the safety catch.

His blood and tears mixed with the other materials that had once been on the inside and outside of his body, and soaked into the carpet. He regurgitated the few quiet, rasping words, "It's me, Dom. But it's me, Domovoi." That was all he could manage before his heart locked down for good.

But the fairies will never control me by my heart.

* * *

A/N: This chapter can stand alone as a oneshot. Slightly more AU than the first one, but just as canon. 

And _you_ thought I'd forgotten about In Which.

Actually, to tell the truth, I never really planned to write any more plot!hole!poking!stuff to augment this fic, but this particular Plotholebunny really gave my leg a healthy gnawing after I read TLC. I don't think I've ever written an insane!Butler, before.

In response to all the reviews that have said Artemis isn't a fairy so shouldn't have to follow the rules of the Book (I love you all for reviewing, by the way): I guess I'd always assumed anyone with magic would be subject to the rules of the Book. After all, Mulch is a fairy no longer needs to abide by the rules of the Book, since he gave up his magic. I suppose this is a non sequitur, but based on Mulch's (and Turnball's, etc.) situation, being a fairy doesn't have much to do with following the rules of the Book. So.

Disclaimer: Let's see you get out of _those_ plot holes, Colfer! Nyah nyah!


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